A skeletal gray hand just barely held to the wrist by threadlike strands of flesh drummed its three remaining fingers on an armrest. Dust flew up from each impatient tap.

What had eons ago been flowing silken robes worthy of uppermost gods now just barely covered the feeble frame of an unholy corpse-like entity. The few parts of the body that still had skin attached were becoming less each day, yet he would never die…he couldn’t. Even when his heart had fallen out years ago, he remained alive.

His younger brother, across the room from him, also brooded as the white-hot spikes held him fast. The agony he felt on a constant basis from the stings of the wasps surrounding him had recently increased a thousand fold, and he wished he could die and have it over with, as he had for millennia…but knew such was impossible.

Such was the Nature of their kind: they were immortal, and only one of their own could destroy them. Indeed, it had been the destruction the youngest of the three brothers by another of their kind that had brought them to the state of annoyance they were now in.

They hadn’t minded that their brother was killed…they all hated each other anyway. Rather, the takeover that had been in the wake of such was the problem. More specifically, what had been brought forth due to the usurpation.

Near-starvation had commenced as the flesh-bearing one came forth. She didn’t obey the laws of this domain. Her iron will made her impossible to chain down, no matter how hard they all tried.

And it was all because of that overreaching young one. She never could remember her place.

The haggard creature gripped his armrests of his throne harder just remembering her. The impaled one agreed, for once in their Lives: they had both had enough. Using their Dark powers they summoned the wily vixen responsible for all this trouble.

Even though he could barely speak save for occasional rasps, the Demon Lord called Decay cried out, in unison with the scream of his fellow Demon Lord, Desolation:
“JUL!”

The demonic screech echoed throughout the cavern, causing stalactites to fall and crumble and already boiling lava to burst upwards like evil geysers.

The latter only caused further giddiness to the captive.

“Hee-hee-hee-heeeeee! More lava, more fun; each burst creates another one!”

“You’re supposed to be in pain! MISERABLE!”

Jul’s demands continued to fall on deaf ears. Rowinda adored the rivers of lava, and was ecstatic that her greatest experiment payed off.

“If you want misery, I can do that.”

Jul rolled her eyes, knowing what was coming next. Rowinda had done so five times already.

“How about some of my famous etroc curd? You yourself said you hate sour things!”

The sing-songy tone of the last three words grated on Jul more than she cared to admit.

“Hey, that gives me an idea,” exclaimed Rowinda with an excited smile. “If I ever get out of here, I think I’ll take some of this stuff with me to make a one-of-a-kind recipe for an ultra-hot hot sauce! I’ll be rich! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!”